Smile
by Anom
Summary: Spiral - Suiri no Kizuna Very quick one-shot. Kanone's POV, thoughts on himself, destiny, and his unique smile.


Wow, randomness. Kanone smiles a lot, didja notice? And it's scary when he does. That's pretty much what inspired this fic, it's first person Kanone POV on him thinking as he fights and kills a hunter.

  
  


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They hate it when I smile.

It always catches them off guard when the Blade Child they would have dead smiles at them.

This hunter is reacting worse that the others have before. Maybe it's because there's blood in this smile, maybe it's just the promise of death he sees in my eyes. Whatever it is, he's backing off, even though he got the first hit in.

I stand slowly, still smiling. I've heard people compare me to a sinister, evil angel when I smile like this, they aren't far off the mark.

The hunter remembers why he's here, and tries to reclaim the situation. I can see the fear in his eyes. He's just realized that I'm different from the other Blade Children he's encountered.

I swallow the blood that fills my mouth, a coppery, sweet taste, and dodge the precise attack. My movements are serene, flowing and perfect. I know what I'm doing, and he didn't expect that.

I can't see our fight as another person would, but I believe it would be a thing of beauty. A bloody Angel of Death fending off a self-proclaimed Defender of Life. I practically dance around him, almost bored. It's rare for a hunter to catch me off guard, much less bloody me. I had hoped for more of a challenge from him. . .

Ahh, here it comes. 

He pulls a knife from his inner coat. He's panting, his face swelling where I've hit him, and he's getting desperate.

My smile widens slightly, inviting him forward. I have my own knife safely hidden on my belt, but I don't feel like using it just yet.

I feel playful.

He stabs out powerfully, and my smile turns to a grin of pleasure as I catch his wrist. A quick twist and the knife drops to the ground. A shift of my weight and a kick and he's thrown backwards, coughing.

The blood is still running between my teeth and over my lips. I wipe at my chin and shake the blood from the back of my hand with a catlike gesture of distaste. Confidently, I approach. He's still on the ground, but I have nothing against attacking those at a disadvantage. If I did, I'd never attack anyone, would I?

He rolls out of the way, avoiding a punch that would have broken his nose. I watch him from where I kneel. He's hoping to grab his knife before I notice he's going for it.

I could let him, I almost do, in fact. At the last minute I change my mind and slam into him as he dives for it. As the Hunter pushes himself from the ground, I casually scoop the knife form where it lies, it's more satisfying to kill someone with their own weapon.

He's standing now, blood running from his nose, eyes wide with fear. I can practically read what's running through his mind. All the Blade Children he's killed before have been young, inexperienced. The kind that barely know what they are or deny it. I know what I am, I embrace my destiny, and therein lies my strength. I'm the physical embodiment of death standing before him.

Now he tries to run, to escape the angel-faced child in whom he has tempted a demon. I allow him a few seconds, not bothering to follow. I can hit falling leaves from across a field and pin them to a bullseye; the retreating back of a human barely requires effort.

The squelching, choking noise a human makes when six inches of cold steel enter their back sends shivers of excitement up my spine every time. He hits the wet leaves and earth with a thud. I leisurely walk toward the fallen hunter.

The fragility of life captivates me. That a man can be alive, fighting savagely, and then be down, choking on his own blood in a mere fraction of a second is a wonder of existence that I never tire of. I sit a few feet from him, content to watch. He's not quite dead, I hit his lung, not his heart.

Death is entrancing to watch. Beautiful in it's own way, as my destiny is beautiful. I can see the light swiftly leaving his eyes, and the blood splattering on the ground as he futilely coughs. He catches my intense gaze in his last moments, and my face is the last thing he ever sees.

And I'm still smiling.

  
  
  
  


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I don't know where that came from. I was working on Play for Me and ran into some snags, so I started this instead. I guess it's an attempt to get a view inside Kanone's head, he's hard to write and this is meant as a glimpse of his most ruthless side.

It's alright for a quick write.


End file.
